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10.13.2001
Dateline: Woodbridge, California
Long wooden vaginas found hidden in an abandoned armoir. Spoogee the new guy. He has paid for it. The Chinese have banned Muslims and Arabs from their national airline. Why you go there? Megabomb sticky tube...will translate 29th floor stationery poems soon enough...
SPEND MONEY TO FIGHT THE WAR!!Today grabbed 2 new releases on CD that so far I rate 10's: Slayer and Kottnmouth Kings both just 4 days old!! And the Northern Lights are dancing these days, along with bubble gumb numb nights in bass and drum:;:; 10.12.2001
Dateline: Chico, California
Mister Sasser and His Latin Ensemble They threw him into a small gray-paneled room. Only the pale light of a narrow closed transom, nearly 15 feet high on the wall, illuminates the stale confines. The space is six by ten feet or so, rising upward into the darkness at least 60 feet. The air, musty and menacing, is reminiscent of a Filipino whorehouse. Mr. Sasser watches at the heavy door is swung shut by the two brawny Department of Listening guards that have brought him to this place. The underdeveloped light is as bright as it is going to get; it is almost mid-day. It seems as if this cell is sound proofed, for there is no defined sound except that of Mr. Sasser’s raspy breathing. The sickness that he has fought so hard to prevent is even now breeding inside his chest. The sound of it is a virtual jailer between the ears. It has weakened him. Now, each hour of the past day poses as an overbearing, exhausting companion. The end of confusion that sleep brings is to be a welcome relief. Mr. Sasser rolls his head to the left and rests it on his shoulder. His sleep is so deep that he actually does not hear the First Night Musical Treatment of constant Phil Collins vocals in the rambling song, “I Can’t Dance”. He would not be so lucky on the Second Night. Dust and Child Fumigation
these unfettered motivations cracked porcelain fingernails stroking this fellow and I can see in his eyes yellow, crazed pumice particulate in clot and grimace soul he knows no salvation it shines across ragtag forehead creases lipid vocal delivery a curtsy to garbage avalanche in aquatic feral neighborhood garden party swallows she enters a forbidden envelope of air around rustic juniper watches the boy gasp his treatment of lemur posts bedeviled mushroom follower crap they wrangle and together smile at penetration unknown they worship a Fever it showers semaphore melodies unto lips comes finger desperation WHAT TERRORISM?
Chop up the Kali, it's pottytime! |
